David T. Johnson，

In March I went to Shizuoka to watch the retrial of Hakamada Iwao， who was sentenced to death in 1968 for the murder of four people in Shizuoka.Hakamada was convicted on the basis of highly dubious evidence， including a confession that was coerced after more than 200 hours of interrogation， and five articles of blood-stained clothing that prosecutors claimed Hakamada wore on the night the killings occurred. The most crucial evidence in this retrial is the clothes. They were “discovered” by police in a miso tank near the crime scene some 14 months after the murders. In 2014 and again in 2023， two different courts said the clothes were probably planted by police in an effort to frame Hakamada. The key sessions in Hakamada’s retrial were March 25-26-27. Seats for spectators were assigned by lottery， and I was able to observe the session on March 27. On all three days the key question was whether the blood stains on the clothes would still appear red after soaking in a tank of miso for 14 months. The defense said no， and their claim was supported by the testimony of three expert witnesses and by evidence from experiments conducted with bloody clothing and miso. In contrast， the prosecution argued that “it is possible” for blood stains on clothing to appear red even after soaking in miso for more than a year. There were two major problems with this claim. First， one of the prosecution’s two expert witnesses stated repeatedly that blood stains on clothing would not appear red after such a prolonged soaking in miso. In other words， on the single most important issue in this retrial， the prosecutor’s own expert witness gave testimony that strongly supported the argument of the defense. Second， the fundamental premise of any sound system of criminal justice is that prosecutors bear the burden of proof to show that the defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. But in Hakamada’s retrial， prosecutors did not try to prove that blood stains would “certainly” or “surely” remain red after prolonged immersion in miso， nor did they try to prove that the stains would “probably” or “likely” remain red. They merely argued that “it is possible” the red color would remain. Even if this claim were correct (and the science suggests it is not)， it would not be enough to convict a man of murder. It is not even close. I have been studying criminal justice in Japan for more than 30 years， and my writings have frequently acknowledged aspects of the Japanese system that deserve praise. On this occasion， however， I came away shaking my head in dismay. If the murders in Shizuoka had occurred in 2016 instead of 1966， there is no way prosecutors would charge Hakamada on such scant evidence. Why， then， do prosecutors persist in seeking to convict a man of murder when there is a mountain of reasonable doubt? I believe there are two main answers to this question. First， courts and the media have done a terrible job of holding prosecutors accountable for their egregious failures to disclose (for decades) dozens of pieces of exculpatory evidence (including photographs of the bloody clothing) that eventually enabled the defense to persuade courts that Hakamada deserves a retrial. When prosecutors pay no penalty for self-interested actions that undermine justice， they are emboldened to do the wrong thing again and again. In this respect， Hakamada’s case is not a one off. Similar misconduct has happened many times before， and it will continue to happen as long as courts and the media let it. Second， a core belief in the culture of Japanese prosecution is that prosecutors cannot be wrong – they must not be wrong， and they are not allowed to be wrong. This belief is one of the main reasons behind a generally cautious charging policy that results in a conviction rate that exceeds 99 percent. But it is also what causes prosecutors to persist in pursuing a course of action despite clear and abundant evidence that the course is mistaken. Prosecutors are wrong about being wrong. They need to realize that making mistakes is normal and inevitable， and that being wrong provides a precious opportunity to learn and change. After Hakamada is acquitted， I hope all prosecutors will reflect in a serious and sustained way about their mistakes in this case. They are legion. It will be too-little-too-late for the 88-year-old Hakamada， who now lives in a world of delusions， not even dimly aware of his own legal situation. He has benefited from the righteous indignation and generosity of countless supporters， but the plain truth is that his life has been ruined beyond repair. If prosecutors wake up and realize that they are wrong about being wrong， they can help prevent this kind of calamity from happening again. David T. Johnson is Professor of Sociology at the University of Hawaii at Manoa and the author of many works on Japanese criminal justice， including Amerikajin no Mita Nihon no Kensatsu Seido (Springer， 2004)， Amerikajin no Mita Nihon no Shikei (Iwanami Shinsho， 2019)， and Kensatsu Shinsakai (Iwanami Shinsho， 2022).